for weeks been laying siege to Marienburg; and the Commandant, unable to
defend the town any longer against such overwhelming odds, had announced
his intention to blow up the fortress, and had warned the inhabitants to
leave the town.

Between the alternatives of death within the walls and the enemy
without, Pastor Glück chose the latter; and sallying forth with his
family and maid-servant, threw himself on the mercy of the Russians who
promptly packed him off to Moscow a prisoner. For Martha (as she seems
to have been known in those days) a different fate was reserved. Her red
lips, saucy eyes, and opulent figure were too seductive a spoil to part
with, General Shérémétief decided, and she was left behind, a by no
means reluctant hostage.

Peter's soldiers, now that victory was assured, were holding high revel
of feasting and song and dancing. They received the new prisoner
literally with open arms, and almost before she had wiped the tears from
her eyes, at parting from her nurslings, she was capering gaily to the
music of hautboy and fiddle, with the arm of a stalwart soldier round
her waist.

"Suddenly," says Waliszewski, "a fearful explosion overthrew the
dancers, cut the music short, and left the servant-maid, fainting with
terror, in the arms of a dragoon."

Thus did Martha, the "Siren of the Kitchen," dance her way into Russian
history, little dreaming, we may be sure, to what dizzy heights her
nimble feet were to carry her. For a time she found her pleasure in the
attentions of a non-commissioned officer, sharing the life of camp and
barracks and making friends by the good-nature which bubbled in her, and